Heiress on the Run. Sophie Pembroke
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buried her head deeper into the pillow, as if she could block out the grey and the rain and the sheer London-ness of it all. She hadn’t had a choice, she reminded herself. She’d made the best decision she could in a difficult situation.
But she couldn’t help but wonder about all the people she’d left behind when she ditched the city she loved the first time. Were they still there? What would she do if she saw one of them on the street? Turn and walk the other way, or brazen it out?
She guessed she wouldn’t know unless it happened.
Hopefully it wouldn’t. In and out, that was the key. Do the job, take the money and run.
So, back to the job. And her employer.
Dominic had chosen the most expensive of the airport hotels once they’d landed in Heathrow, which hadn’t really surprised her at that point. To be honest, she could have slept in a chair in the terminal, she was so tired. But the blissfully soft pillows and firm mattress of the hotel room were a definite improvement.
Reluctantly pushing herself up into a seated position, shoulders resting against the headboard, she tried to wake up enough to get a handle on the day ahead. Dominic had said the Americans were arriving around eleven, and it was only eight-thirty. So she had plenty of time to shower, dress...wait. What was she going to wear? She had her uniforms from the Roman Holiday Tour Company, she had her going-out-for-dinner dress and she had some jeans and plain T-shirts. She hadn’t exactly packed for corporate events when she’d left Rome. She’d packed for an overnight in London and then another tour.
It would have to be the uniforms, she supposed, for now at least. Maybe she could ask Dominic about an advance on her wages, or even a clothing allowance. Given the disapproving look he’d given her outfit in the bar the night before, she suspected he might be amenable.
A knock on the door dragged her thoughts away from her wardrobe and onto her growling stomach. Was that room service? Had she remembered to leave the breakfast card out the night before? She really hoped so. She was useless without a decent meal in the morning.
Swinging her legs out of bed, she glanced down at her rather skimpy red nightgown—a present from Antonio, of course. He never did have any concept of subtle. Still, she supposed that room service had probably seen much worse.
Except, when she yanked open the door with a smile, it wasn’t room service.
Dominic’s eyes travelled down over her body at an offensively quick speed. Any other man, Faith knew, would have lingered over her curves, outlined in red silk. Any other man would have enjoyed the view of her bare legs.
Her new employer, however, merely catalogued her attire and raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Do you always open your door dressed like a lingerie model?’
Faith felt the heat flush to her face. ‘I thought you were room service with breakfast.’
‘I’m afraid if you want breakfast you’ll have to get dressed. Assuming you have something more suitable to wear...’ His eyes flicked over her shoulder to where her skirt and blouse from the day before lay draped over a chair. Faith winced when she noticed the pale pink lace bra lying on top of them.
‘Actually, that was something I wanted to talk to you about...’
Dominic glanced at his watch. ‘No time. Get dressed and we’ll talk over coffee, before we head over to arrivals.’
‘I thought your clients didn’t get in until eleven?’ Faith asked, confused.
‘They don’t.’ Dominic was already walking away down the corridor. ‘But you need a briefing before they arrive.’
He turned a corner and was gone. Apparently busy executives didn’t have time to finish conversations properly. Or tell people where to meet them when they were decently dressed.
An elderly couple appeared at the end of the corridor and Faith realised, a little belatedly, that she was standing in the open in her really inappropriate nightie. Stepping back inside her room, she shut the door firmly behind her and headed for the shower.
Time to prove to Lord Dominic Beresford that she was capable of doing any job he needed doing, whatever she was wearing.
* * *
Good God, did she sleep in that every night? Even when she was alone and exhausted and straight off a plane, Faith managed to slip into a sexy little number for bed. Dominic shook his head. What kind of a devil temptress had he hired?
Unless, of course, she’d put it on especially for him that morning. Unless she planned to seduce and ruin him, just like Katarina had tried to do. Just like his mother had done to his father.
It was all still a little too neat. Dominic didn’t believe in coincidences, or serendipity, or any of the other things Faith had chattered about on the plane, her smile too wide, her lips too tempting. She’d been in exactly the right place at exactly the right time and, in his experience, that sort of thing didn’t happen without some forward planning.
Still, he did need a tour guide, and she seemed to be an adequate one. All he had to do was stay out of her way while she worked, and she’d never get the chance to put any sort of plans into action. It would be fine.
As soon as he could erase that image of her in fiery red silk from his brain.
Figuring she’d take an insane amount of time to shower and dress, Dominic headed down to the restaurant and ordered coffee while he perused the papers. He wasn’t much for breakfast, but he’d grab a piece of toast or some fruit when Faith joined him. They had too much to discuss to waste time on food.
However she’d come into his life, and whatever she hoped to get out of it, the only thing that mattered to Dominic was that she did the job he hired her to do: take care of his clients. He knew his strengths weren’t always in the socialising side of things—he’d generally rather be in his office. That was why his arrangement with Katarina had worked so well. She’d taken care of the smiling, small talk and looking interested side of things. He took care of the business.
Bloody Katarina. She was right up there with Shelley on his list of women determined to thwart him right now. He just hoped that Faith wouldn’t be added to it before she and the Americans left at the end of next week.
Sooner than he’d expected, Faith appeared at the entrance to the hotel restaurant. She waved a hand in his direction but, instead of heading for his table, she made for the breakfast buffet.
Holding in a sigh, Dominic watched as she bypassed the platters of fruit and the glass containers full of cereal. Instead, she loaded up her plate with eggs, bacon, sausage, beans, fried bread...and grabbed a side plate for a couple of mini pastries, too.
Apparently those curves were made entirely of breakfast.
‘Hungry?’ he asked, eyebrow raised, as she finally made it to the table.
Depositing her plates, Faith ripped off a bite of pain au chocolat as she dropped into her seat. ‘Starving. Do you think they’ll bring me some tea?’
His mother’s lessons in etiquette and good manners towards women were deeply ingrained, and Dominic found himself motioning over a waiter to request a pot of tea and more coffee for himself before he even realised he was doing it.
‘You’ve eaten already?’ Faith asked, after swallowing an enormous forkful of eggs and toast.
‘I don’t usually eat breakfast,’ he replied, folding his paper neatly across the middle and placing it on the empty table beside them. ‘Especially when I’ve an important day ahead.’
‘That’s just when you need it,’ Faith said, sounding eerily like a nanny he’d had when he was eight.
‘I’ve made it this far. I think I’ll survive. Now. To business.’ Casting his gaze over her outfit, he was relieved to find it less revealing than the day before, and certainly less fantasy-inducing than the silk concoction she’d had on first thing. The skirt, he realised, was the same